


You're the Wound Time Will Never Heal

by The_Unnatural_Disaster (havent_got_a_clue)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, First Time, Hate Sex, Love/Hate, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, Wall Sex, cathartic sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1504301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havent_got_a_clue/pseuds/The_Unnatural_Disaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky going to Steve in the middle of the night, drunk, wasted, SOMETHING.</p><p>“I remember you,” he says, but it’s contempt and envy and pain and love and lust and 70 years of unresolved issues and Steve just grabs him hard and pulls him inside and they fuck like it’s a basic need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're the Wound Time Will Never Heal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [myfortuneandterrorandrapture](https://archiveofourown.org/users/myfortuneandterrorandrapture/gifts).



> for my darling [myfortuneandterrorandrapture](http://myfortuneandterrorandrapture.tumblr.com/), who lamented the relative lack of really angsty Bucky/Steve fic.

 

He didn’t go back to his apartment after what happened there. Even if Fury’s secretly alive and kicking, watching him get shot, the events that followed, it’s not something he likes to revisit.

Sometime in the aftermath he found his way to a hotel room in North Carolina. Stark would probably ridicule it for being the size of his shower (and, really, did one shower need to fit twenty people), but it’s nicer than any place Steve had back in the old days and no one is bothering him here.

There’s not enough alcohol in the entire hotel to affect him, but the burn as it goes down feels nice. It feels alive.

The tv is blaring some show about alien invasions but Steve is staring at the clock as the late hours change into early ones. The demanding knock on the door, arrhythmic but forceful, breaks his spell.

It’s not an expected sound.

Dressed in ragged jeans and a hooded sweatshirt and leaning against the doorframe likes he’ll fall over otherwise, eyes red rimmed and unfocused, is Bucky.

Steve shakes his head and starts to speak, but Bucky lazily holds up a finger and whispers, “shhhhhhh.”

Steve doesn’t sense that he’s in danger. Or that in this state Bucky is even capable of being dangerous, but he also can’t sense his endgame. He knows that if Bucky wanted him dead, he wouldn’t be standing here looking so lost.

Bucky closes his eyes slowly and bites his lip like he’s trying to find the words and it’s several seconds before he breathes out and stares Steve down.

“I--” He stumbles a bit and Steve, because he’s Steve, reaches out to catch him before he falls.

So close to Bucky now and the memories flood through him like a fresh dose of the damned serum that changed his life so long ago. Bucky laughs but it’s resigned, resentful.

He purses his lips together and shakes his head.

“I remember you.”

And there it is.

Bucky’s head hangs low and Steve cups his chin to get a good look at him. He refuses to look Steve in the eye even though his cheeks are wet with tears. So many times he’d dreamt of seeing Bucky again, the man he’d go to the ends of the earth for, but now he’s faced with the reality of this shell of the friend he once knew; so full of contempt and fight and regret.

“Bucky...Bucky, look at me.” Steve isn’t going to let him do this to himself when so many others have made him feel this way in the first place.

The moment Bucky’s eyes finally meet his is the moment Bucky finally breaks.

The dam bursts and Bucky buries his wet face in Steve’s chest and Steve lets it happen because they both need this.

He pulls them both inside the room without a word and shuts the door, pushing Bucky up against it and pinning him there, shoving his massive form against Bucky’s lean body and kissing him like it’s going to take away all his pain, repair the cracks even if there is a body count and seventy years falling through those cracks.

Bucky doesn’t waste time responding to Steve. It’s not tender or loving; it’s bitter and lustful, but Steve knows it’s what needs to happen.

Bucky is cold where he should be warm and, if he wanted to, could throw Steve across the room if this isn’t what he wants, but he shoves his hips against Steve’s and lets his metal arm drop to his side, only using his good hand to grab a fistful of Steve’s hair to pull him closer. The abomination isn't invited tonight.

Steve kisses down to Bucky’s neck, breathing in the scent there and somehow it’s still home to him after all this time.

Bucky moves against him, moaning under his breath, “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you” even as he pushes up on Steve’s simple white shirt to get to the skin underneath.

Steve pulls back and lifts the shirt over his head and stops to watch Bucky do the same to his own. Bucky breathes out shakily when Steve runs his hand over Bucky’s chest.  He looks more vulnerable now than he did before Hydra made him a killing machine.

Steve almost thinks that he can’t do this with Bucky looking this way, but it’s Bucky who closes the gap and it’s nothing but skin on skin and the feeling of this being just so right rapidly replacing his trepidation.

Bucky shoves his hand between them, settling it on Steve’s erection. He squeezes it, making Steve gasp and bite at Bucky’s lip. It must be the reaction Bucky wanted and he pushes at Steve’s sweatpants until they hit the floor.

Steve steps out of them as Bucky looks at him with a hunger in his eyes he wasn’t prepared for but drives him crazy to see and, in a split second, it takes every ounce of self restraint not to rip Bucky’s jeans to shreds to get him as naked as Steve is.

Bucky reaches greedily for Steve’s cock and strokes it in time with his own, pulling him closer until he can take them both with one hand. Steve cries out at the feeling of Bucky’s rough soldier’s palm and the velvet heat of his dick together.

It’s so loud he almost misses the breathy demand from Bucky for Steve to just fuck him already.

Steve’s eyes go wide. “Bucky…” But he can’t stop kissing him. “...How?” Even though he wants to so badly he can’t stand it.

“Damn it, Steve! We’re soldiers!” He pushes at Steve until he backs up so he can disappear into the tiny bathroom only to emerge with a small bottle of cheap hotel lotion.

“We make do in any situation. Isn’t that how we were trained?” He spits the words out and Steve knows Bucky isn’t talking about the army now.

“Bucky are you sure--”

“Fuck! Steve! Don’t do this right now! Just don’t do this!” He pulls Steve close to shut him up, scratching at his skin and biting along his jawline.

And it’s all Steve needs to keep going.  The lotion smells like cheap roses, but neither of them cares as he slicks his fingers up and works Bucky open slowly. Bucky growls and shakes with each new sensation and if it weren’t for the serum Steve would be done already with just the noises coming out of Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky works Steve, slicking up his cock until they both feel comfortable to proceed.  Bucky wraps his legs around Steve’s waist and braces himself against the wall, letting Steve enter him slowly until he’s buried in all the way. It’s so good Steve almost forgets how it came to this.

He gives just a few tenuous thrusts before the last semblance of self control is gone and Steve grips Bucky’s hips hard and sets the cruel pace, pushing and pulling him, lifting him, shoving him down, and Bucky is taking all that Steve is giving him, breathless and crying out, stroking his own cock until he shudders and comes, tightening around Steve and pushing him over the edge with a hoarse shout.

He keeps Bucky wrapped around him for several minutes as they both come down. Steve could justify not letting him go a thousand different ways, but he’s not so far gone that he doesn’t know what will happen when he finally does.

The small room, once chilly from the cheap hotel air conditioning, is warm and stinks of sex. Steve has never--didn’t know he could ever--but it’s not as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind a million times in the past and a million times since he caught that first glimpse of the man Bucky has become, so it’s not too unexpected when he feels something that feels damned close to relief on the down side of his orgasm.

Bucky buries his head in the crook of Steve’s shoulder and kneads the muscles of his back until they both silently agree that it’s time to let go.

Bucky is a mess and Steve figures that since it was he who made the mess, the least he can do is offer a  wet cloth and a towel. He steps into the bathroom and pulls them off the rack and turns on the water.

He’s in there maybe thirty seconds, but it’s enough time for Bucky. He is not waiting for Steve when he emerges.

Steve sighs and pours another drink.

  


It’s several weeks later when the Winter Soldier finds him again. His eyes are dull as they pass over Steve before slamming a fist into his face; he shows no sign of remembering the night they shared.

“Bucky!”

“I don’t…I--stop calling me Bucky!” Another body blow and Steve just takes it. The Bucky he knew is gone once again.  


And somehow, even as he’s nursing his wounds later,  Bucky not remembering at all hurts less than when he pauses to remember how they feel for each other when he does.

  
  
  
  



End file.
